Origins
by Ruby Casablanca
Summary: My reasons were simple really: He had everything I had ever wanted. All of my dreams were his reality, and he never appreciated them. Never. Not one bit. Rated T for swearing.


Origins

My reasons were simple really: He had everything I had ever wanted. All of my dreams were his reality, and he never appreciated them. Never. Not one bit.

He was always the best in his class, and I was always right behind him, stuck in second place. The Prodigy, they used to call him jokingly before he ever gazed into the Time Vortex. The elders all proclaimed that he would become the next Lord President. Even when he came out from the Untempered Schism with his shining new name, The Doctor, people still praised him. A good name, they said it was. A name that holds power and importance. Yet, no one said a word about my name, The Master, a true representation of power, the name of a leader. No. No one cared about the boy who came in second place.

I hated that he was showered with praise, and I was ignored.

I suppose that's also why I started to hate him. He came out of the Schism seemingly unharmed and powerful, inspired almost. No one saw the deep urge in his eyes to run away like I did, but no one cared about the ramblings of a crazy boy. Apparently, I had gone mad when I looked into the infinity of time itself, and I had gained a noise, a drumming in my head that would last throughout my entire existence. That, they said, was a sign of true insanity.

I hated that he couldn't hear it as well.

I hated him for graduating top of the class in The Academy, for going on to join the High Council before me simply because his mother was a member. He never wanted a position there; he never wanted to be called Lord Doctor, and he loathed wearing the robes he should've been honored to receive. He pranced about in his crimson attire while I was stuck on the bottom rungs of the government. Apparently having a wealthy, influential father wasn't as good as having a mother who could do all the hard work for you.

I hated him for taking my rightful position.

I hated him for purposely stealing TARDISes, breaking every one of our laws, and then end up walking away scot-free because of his 'position' on the Council. He repeatedly ruined his reputation and yet those old bastards pardoned him every time, even though I knew he desperately wanted to be punished. He never wanted anything he had handed to him; what he wanted was to be free of Gallifrey and every rule that came with it.

He was sick of being the perfect Time Lord, and I hated him for it.

Most of all, I hated that he got her, the most beautiful, divine creature I had ever laid my eyes upon. She was of beauty and power and compassion, her abilities unparalleled yet she appeared so naïve to it all. However, she was not a Time Lord, her people akin to us, but all extinct from genocide long since ended by our own hands. It was a miracle she had survived, and a greater one yet that she had forgiven us all for our grave sins against her people. She resembled such beauty that the rarest and most precious flower on Gallifrey was named after her: Rose.

We had met before on the council, and even though her reputation far preceded her, we had gotten along quite nicely. It was a miracle she was willing to even trust me, and I was actively thinking of pursuing her with the closer we grew. But, of course, The Doctor, seeing her rarity, soon sunk his claws into her and eventually wooed her away from me. They were married after a hundred years or so and practically lived happily ever after with one of the largest families Gallifrey had ever held.

He took my one chance at real love and I hated him for it.

But, what really made my blood boil was that he left her and his family after a few hundred years to go gallivanting off into time and space with _her _TARDIS. He up and left her only to return sporadically every once in a while, sometimes with a new face, sometimes with a fairly attractive female companion beside him, always rambling on about some great adventure. In the beginning, he practically stole away his granddaughter, the pair sailing away, leaving her a distraught mess, yet she forgave him. She forgave him every time he erred, even when he began to romance Romana behind her back or brought a stray traveler home with him.

I had helped her when he was gone for all those many years, giving her a support system, a shoulder to cry on. She was my closest friend, yet I could never tell her how I truly cared for her. She was still head over heels in love with the man who had left her, and I was sickened by it.

He had her wrapped around his fingers and he didn't care, and I hated him for it.

Then the Time War came, and he became a soldier while I was forced to remain away due to my 'mental fragility'. First, he was a savior, but then he was a nightmare, a cruel, uncontainable weapon that was uncontrollable at best. He had gained so much power over his years, so much influence that entire armies would flee at the mere mention of his name. He was ruthless, staring death in the face for sport, even daring to confront the Nightmare Child. Even I began to fear him though I too had witnessed my fair share of horrors.

And I hated him for all he had become, for everything he took was supposed to be mine.

Perhaps the worst part was that he broke her hearts in two, that beautiful goddess, leaving her stranded on the mountain side with little left to cling on to, yet her faith in him remained. Even as he strode away and vanished in her own TARDIS, with the skies burning around her, she held on to the hope that he would see the light. I knew better. I knew that as he strode away, there would be no future for Gallifrey. He was so war-hardened that he would use The Moment without a second thought. He was no longer 'The Prodigy' all the elders claimed him to be so long ago. No. Now he was our executioner.

In many ways, he had become greater than Time itself, and I hated him for it.

So, when I found myself surviving the Time War and the End of the Universe, my own death and reincarnation, even as I saw him point that damned gun at my chest as all of Gallifrey and Earth and Time itself hung in the balance, I found that I could not hate him. In my moment of glory, the perfect opprotunity to enact my years-old plan of revenge, I could not muster a single dreaded feeling towards the man I spent my entire life loathing. I saw in his eyes that he was broken. He was sad and alone with so little happiness left to hang on to in this life, yet that wasn't what had caused my change in emotion. No. When I looked into his eyes, I instantly recognized myself.

Was this truly how miserable I looked all my life, so alone, so sad, so angry at everyone? Was I really so hopeless?

Now, with Gallifrey's future in the palm of my hand, I felt like I finally had a purpose. The drumbeat inside my head was the key in reviving my species, my body the template for a new society. Finally I wasn't second best, but I also felt empty, as if the power wasn't as satisfying as I had dreamed it to be.

Why didn't I feel as incredible as I had always imagined? Why wasn't the power instilling strength in me? I was truly beyond an answer. Was this why The Doctor hated his role so much, why he desperately wanted to flee his life all the time? Was it because he knew what power was and was dissatisfied with the taste? Honestly, the power felt hollow and cold, and I suddenly felt as if I had spent my life chasing after something that had never existed. The power I had so desperately searched for did not exist.

So, with nothing else to lose, I tackled The Rassilon to the ground, blasting him with all my remaining life-force. After all, I had nothing left to live for, no purpose. My power was empty and my life was spent for nothing. Maybe there was a reason I was second best for all those years.

Maybe The Doctor was right about everything after all, and I hated him for it.


End file.
